MADDIE
I wake to the gentle brush of Remi’s fingers on my shoulder. Stretching like a cat, I turn towards him and meet those mischievous hazel eyes, half-hidden beneath heavy lashes and a tousled mop of ash-blond hair.
God, he’s beautiful.
Whenever we go out, I can feel people watching him, guys and girls alike. His athletic frame definitely draws attention, but it’s his sharp mind and soft heart that truly set him apart.
Remi is one of the most intelligent, thoughtful people I’ve ever known.
He may come across as distant at first, a little aloof, but beneath that quiet, slightly gruff exterior is a heart as tender as they come, and I find it utterly endearing.
I lean in to kiss him good morning, smiling as I wrap myself around him.
“Good morning, my love.”
He smiles back, as warm as ever, though there’s a flicker of worry in his eyes.
“Morning, Mads. Ready to take flight?”
He’s trying to play it cool, to keep it light, but I know him too well. I can hear the tension in his voice, feel it in the way he holds himself, and it only makes me love him more.
He’s doing this for me. Putting on a brave face so I won’t carry guilt with me when I go.
Remi’s never actually said I love you, not in those exact words, but I’ve never needed to hear it. It’s in the way he looks at me, the way he listens, the way he quietly reaches for me when I can’t sleep.
It’s in everything he does.
I reach up to stroke his cheek and smile.
“We’ve got time. I could give you... five minutes of cuddling.”
He laughs and wriggles away, pretending to be strong.
“Don’t tempt me. I’d feel terrible if you missed your flight because of me.”
We’ve never spent this much time apart. Not even close.
And the truth is, he’s not the only one struggling with it.
I do feel guilty, if I’m honest. Not just because I’m leaving him on his own all summer, but because I’ve also asked him to take care of someone he’s never even met, someone who just happens to be my ex-boyfriend.
When I first offered to host Sebastian during his summer internship at the conservatoire, I assumed I’d still be in London. I thought it might be a chance to rebuild our friendship, catch up, maybe even find some kind of closure.
Back then, I had no idea my company would send me to New York. And when offered, I knew I couldn’t turn it down.
This internship is a major step in my career and Remi...
Remi was amazing. He didn’t even hesitate.
He said yes to looking after Seb, knowing full well that he’d be doing it on his own.
To be honest, I didn’t think he would agree, not once he realized who Sebastian was. What he meant to me.
Seb and I haven’t seen each other in years, though we’ve always kept in touch.
The first few months after the break-up were brutal. But even after everything, after the silence, after Paris, after the hurt, he’s still a part of me. I think, in some quiet way, he always will be.
Anne, Sebastian, and I grew up together in Stratford. The three of us were inseparable.
Losing him wasn’t just the end of a relationship; it was the loss of something much deeper. A kind of grief, not just for him, but for the girl I used to be. The girl I could never go back to.
Even now, thinking about him stirs something in me. A sadness that’s hard to name.
I loved Sebastian with the reckless intensity of first love.
Just seeing him walk into a room used to make my heart race.
Touching him, kissing him, just being close, it felt natural, necessary.
When we were apart, I could barely breathe.
He was my first everything, my first best friend, my first love, the first person I slept with, the first person I ever truly let in.
And when he left, he took all of that with him.
The first few days after he moved to Paris were a blur.
I barely ate, drank too much, and cried until there was nothing left.
It felt like the ground had opened up beneath me, and I was buried in the wreckage.
Anne eventually called my parents in a panic. They came straight down from Stratford, desperate to understand what had happened.
At the time, the plan had been for the three of us, Seb, Anne, and me, to share a flat at the start of term. Instead, they found me there alone, devastated.
Anne had to explain everything. That Sebastian had left. That he’d been offered a full scholarship to the Conservatoire in Paris. That he’d ended things with me, suddenly, with no warning, no real explanation.
He told me it was for the best. That he had to go. That it would hurt less this way. But I couldn’t understand how losing him, my other half, was supposed to help me in any way.
For weeks, I couldn’t imagine how I would ever feel whole again.
And when he left, he looked just as lost as I felt.
There was no excitement in his eyes.
No spark.
Just sadness.
And doubt.
I tried one last time to stop him. I kissed him, hoping that the closeness might bring him back, even for a moment.
His scent, his warmth, it was all so familiar. But it wasn’t enough.
He got on that plane and left me in pieces.
Eventually, we stopped talking. Maybe that was for the best.
My parents returned to Stratford, and Anne, who has always been the stronger of the two of us, held me together through those first impossible months.
She kept the practicalities running, too. She found someone to take Seb’s place in the flat, a sweet, funny guy named Noah, so we could still afford the rent.
Noah introduced us to his boyfriend, Jamie, and together, they helped bring warmth and laughter back into our home.
They dragged me out to the pub, invited me to gigs, and introduced me to their friends. I resisted at first, but slowly, those outings became a routine, a lifeline.
Meanwhile, my studies at Saint Martins were going well. I poured everything I had into my work.
I was determined not to fall behind.
For the first time in months, I started to feel like myself again.
Not whole, not yet. But stronger. More grounded.
Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian started messaging me.
Just simple texts: How are you? Thinking of you. Hope you're OK.
He never mentioned the past directly. He tiptoed around it, careful not to push.
I wanted to be angry. To cut him off completely.
But I couldn’t.
Deep down, I knew he was hurting too.
We started talking again, slowly. Tentatively. As if we were trying to walk across cracked ice. We built something fragile, but it was enough. Not love, not anymore. But something.
A friendship, maybe. One born of shared history and stubborn affection.
It wasn’t what we used to have, but it was better than nothing.
And I didn’t want to lose him completely.
I still missed him, though.
I missed touching him, kissing him, breathing him in.
I missed the softness in his voice, the way his hair curled at the ends, the warmth of his body at night.
But I knew I couldn’t have that again. Not really.
So I clung to the pieces I could keep.
Whatever I could hold on to, I kept it close.
Maybe it looked like obsession from the outside. Maybe it was.
But I didn’t want to erase what we’d had.
Even if he couldn’t say how he felt, I knew he still cared.
His messages made that clear: I don’t want to lose you.
When I first met Remi, I was immediately struck by how beautiful he was.
Lean, quietly athletic, with a mop of wild blond hair and those deep hazel eyes that seemed to see right through you.
But I wasn’t ready for anything romantic. Not then. Not after Sebastian.
Still, there was something about Remi that put me at ease.
He was quiet, a little aloof, but steady, grounded in a way that made me feel safe.
He didn’t flirt or try to win me over like other guys.
He just... listened. And when I talked, really talked, even when I went on and on about Sebastian like some heartbroken cliché, he never once rolled his eyes or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.
He stayed. He listened. He cared.
And slowly, without even realizing it, he slipped under my skin.
Being with him didn’t just feel good, it felt necessary.
He became the best part of my day. That calm presence I hadn’t known I needed.
The attraction had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.
But one evening, something shifted. I leaned in and kissed him.
And from that moment on, everything changed.
Things moved quickly after that. I liked Remi, really liked him, and for the first time since Sebastian, I felt that spark again. That pull. I wanted him. Not just emotionally, but physically.
With Sebastian, everything had been new. We’d discovered sex together, clumsily at first, the way most teenagers do.
It wasn’t always easy to find time alone, our parents were always hovering, and he spent hours locked away with his piano.
Between the two of us, I was the more curious, the more eager to explore. Sebastian was... hesitant. Shy. I thought that would change with time, but it never really did. There was always a slight distance, a hesitation he never quite let go of.
I didn’t mind then. I told myself it was just his nature.
But with Remi, it was different. He was present. Confident. Attentive.
And he made me feel wanted in a way I hadn’t felt in years, if ever.
Moving in together felt like the natural next step after uni.
And, surprisingly, the adjustment was easy.
We found our rhythm quickly, made space for each other, supported one another, and shared the load without needing to talk about it too much.
When the opportunity in New York came up, Remi was the first to encourage me to take it, even though it meant we’d be apart.
Originally, he was supposed to visit for a couple of weeks, but then Professor Hawthorne, his supervisor, dumped a pile of extra work on him at the last minute.
So now, he has to stay behind.
I know how much Remi owes that man. He’s the one who helped secure his scholarship, who guided him through the hardest stretches of his PhD. But sometimes, I honestly can’t believe how much Remi puts up with.
Then again, he’s got a plan. He wants to teach physics at university one day, and that means finishing his doctorate and keeping Hawthorne happy.
I’d hoped to still be in London when Sebastian arrived.
I wanted to greet him, hug him, and introduce him to Remi in person. But the timing didn’t work out.
He’ll be landing while I’m already in the air, halfway to New York.
I really hope they get along. Though, truthfully, I can’t think of two people more different than Remi and Seb.
All I can do is cross my fingers and hope Remi doesn’t eat him alive, at least not before Seb finds his own place.
I’m not entirely sure what Sebastian’s plans are. From what I gather, he’s here for the summer, enrolled in a specialization course in concert technique. His agent, May Morris, probably has his calendar packed with recitals and events.
Hopefully, I’ll manage to catch one when I’m back. I’m meant to spend a week in London before he returns to Paris.
Mostly, I just want to see him again. To talk. Properly this time.
To finally understand why he left.